Woke up on FairField Avenue, Pontefract, in a peach lace dress, a weave, and a pair of
‘too big for me,’ navy tracksuit bottoms, that i had managed to steal from a boy, in order for me to beable to have a better nights sleep. I promptly went back to sleep, due to ‘still feeling pissed-ness’ after a text message from Harriet informing me of her utter state of ‘rough’ and hearing the boys (Wazza & Dobbo) downstairs grumbling like they were…’still feeling pissed-ness.’ Most AMAZING night in Leeds ever. Madness, silver stilettos, Reggae dancing, RUM, birthdays, graffti, train journeys and that almost unbeatable, good old Yorkshire humour. You know you’ve had a good night, when everyone who went to the ‘shindig’ felt AWFUL the next day. I did the walk of shame, covered in cat hair to Asda. Wazza called it ‘surreal’ to be grocery shopping with Me. (If there was drunk slag Barbie….You KNOW it bitches!) One party goer, was at a chip shop having people believe that, fully grown 12 year olds, we’re her children, one drove to Scarborough at 8am and the rest couldn’t see. Rum does this! Leeds is ACE! We took our Ponty Drama…:)
Great night had by all. It was Wazza’s birthday. I went 5 hours early and drank ALL day until the party began. A jolly group of us trained it to Leeds, and then we bar hopped…can’t really remember where? Wetherspoons? Fenton? But we bar hopped the best we could, to nice family pubs, places that smelt like wee and with one of the Ponty crew named ‘Katty,’ who was armed with an endless amount of ‘NAKED MAN Lighters.’ I never got one. But i was assured that i had probably dated them all, and at one point i sighted Wazza ferociously rubbing the crotch part of his?
I’ve noticed that the people in our group of Pontefract crew much, have two personalities. The first one is simply their name, who they are and the fact that they are sober. Then the second personality is again, their name, who they are, however with the word ‘PARTY’ infront of it. Now, you’re either ‘Party,‘ as in FUN FUN. Or ‘Party’ as in ‘Mentalist.’ Or ‘Party‘ as in a ‘fucking slag,’ Or ‘Party’ as in dickhead. Haha…I enjoy ALL these versions of ‘ Party.’ (Which is simply code for ‘Fucking Drunk.’) By the time it was time for the jolly lot of us (and everyone was there) to venture on some evil night-time hike (they left me & Harriet, because we were in heels) to The Favesham, to partake in Reggae birthday madness, rum and idiocracy…we were ALL fucking ‘Party!’ Be warned!! Ponty Drama was caused! LMAO! And for once, it actually had NOTHING to do with ME! Hahahhaha!
We all bundled in, got rummed up, it was simply amazing. I mean, we’ve all known each other since being 17, therefore it’s nice to know that at almost 30, we’re ALL still pissheads. Everyone dressed down. I dressed UP. We got down and dirty ‘Reggae Reggae’ style to an AMAZING white old man DJ, who looks like a 50 year old geography teacher, yet could *thrust* like a maniac and IN MY FACE!! We had squirmed our way to the very front and well accidentally decided to play the ‘flirty groupie’ game with Harriet, by Bimbo bouncing up & down in slow motion at the 50 year old man, screaming ‘I looooove yooooou,’ and getting him all ‘mentalist.’ He LOVED ME!!! Infact, they all loved us girls, as they had some kind of ‘Big Black Bouncer’ Boobie paparrazi out, who non-stop photographed the ‘ladies!’ We danced like drunk dickheads and everyone oddly realized that they actually LOVED reggae.
Luckily, in the back they had a Graffiti room…well it was more ‘canvas art’ room, where you can draw, write or paint anything you want. I know…AMAZE right! It all got the better of us, therefore this room became our only hope of survival. I can’t really remember what i did in this room…but get more drunk, lay on sofas, write ‘I AM OFF THE TELLY’ on everything i could, followed by my name. NO WAIT!!! Bone (one of our friends) put a red 12 hr glowstick down my clevage and i pretended to be E.T! It was amazing. Everyone had a brilliant time. I noticed how cheap the drinks we’re in comparison to London. Erm…50p for an extra shot. £2 for a rum & coke!!! WTF! This is heaven!!
Ended up on a white sofa, talking, doing the Robot, and McChilling coz my fucking feet HURT from the the awful HIKE up there. I’m not made for walking…just looking at. I’m usually picked up and ‘travelled’ somehow, when i go places. Then dropped off perfectly…so i can be looked at more. 🙂 I had GREAT boobs on that night! Anyway, whilst Harriet, Dobbo (hilariously grumpily funny being) were in the Graffiti room at about 2am, being drunken fools, the rest of our pretty party (and there were about 10 more of us) we’re all commiting to quite WONDERFUL Ponty drama. LOL. I can’t actually tell you what exactly happened and not because i don’t want to, but mainly because whilst the ‘ drama’ was occuring…i was in a whole other room, being good and writing words like ‘AIDs/Pussy/Paedo and WUNNA INNIT’ on our graffiti board, to music that was ‘bom bom bomming.’ Dobbo was being annoyed at people calling him fat and Harriet was drawing happy and sad faces on her knees. The rest of them we’re fighting. Hahaha. I missed it all! 😉
Long story short, we all left separately, had the most delicious night. I actually had the best time of party in a long while, due to my rum intake. We stopped off at MacDonalds, got quarter pounders, and Happy meals. Got back to Wazzas, where i remember the boys daring to out ‘hot sauce’ each other. I also remember the whole point to us going to reggae night, was to ‘Boom-shack-a-lack’ it to that ‘Ram Jam’ 50 year old, overly thrusting, geography looking teacher DJ. Dobbo, couldn’t be arsed and when asked by Wazza if he liked the Famous White Man Reggae DJ…he responded with what i am calling the greatest quote ever:
‘No i missed it all. I couldn’t be arsed. Like was he actuallly reknowned? Or was he just a Fucking Idiot???’
I grabbed some tracky bottoms and went to bed immediately. Great way to watch your friend turn 29. I’m wanting to move back onto northern soil. I feel a new chapter approaching… *wink-pout*